


In Manhattan, I Loved You

by angelica_barnes



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Blind Jack, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, ed and esme are siblings, mute taylor, taylor and harry are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: ed and taylor fall in love, as told through the eyes of taylor's eldest son, kemp.





	In Manhattan, I Loved You

**Author's Note:**

> based off :
> 
> I'm With You - Avril Lavigne  
> Sad Beautiful Tragic - Taylor Swift  
> Begin Again - Taylor Swift

Maybe it wasn’t so much how it began, as much as about how it ended, but then again all stories have a beginning; with Kemp’s mom, there was a cold night and it was rain and umbrellas and scattered footsteps amongst pigeons and alleycats, and maybe in hindsight she should’ve seen him coming but she never did.

They never did.

Mom had never hinted at anything, not when it came to a ginger-haired man playing a broken guitar on the streets, but when she came home at eleven and collapsed into a chair, she was smiling, showing all her teeth. And ever since Dad had left, Mom hadn’t smiled, and so Kemp decided to take his headphones off for the first time in two years and talk to her.

 

 

-

 

It happened gradually, with more smiles and short conversations, and soon there were little notes scattered all around the house, in scraggly handwriting. For Christmas, Kemp gathered them up and arranged them around on a giant piece of paper. He spray painted the background with squiggly lines of a million different colors (mostly black and red and green) and then he signed it in black sharpie, and he hung in it Mom’s room around Christmas.

Jack helped him. Or tried. Jack prefered to write, and so he spun tales of princes and princesses and he made sure that every kind character had at least a pint of their mother in them, and Kemp scribbled to copy down everything as fast as Jack could speak.

“Good job, Jacky,” he said afterwards, ruffling his little brother’s hair, and Jack smiled and giggled slightly. Ten years old and already incredible; Kemp believed he was a genius. Even without color in his life, and so Kemp tried to create as much as he could for him.

_ Thank you,  _ Mom signed when she opened her gifts, and Kemp smiled and kissed her cheek.

_ You’re welcome, Mama. _

 

 

-

 

Mom adopted Kemp when he was ten - five years ago. She signed the papers for Jack the same day, when he was three, and they made their way home to the tiny Manhattan apartment. Mismatched furniture and stained walls, staticy reception and a fridge you had to kick once or twice to open. But it was home to them, even back then on the first day.

And they loved their mom.

She was beautiful, with soft cyan eyes and short blonde hair, and her skin glowed against the sharp contrast of pretty pink lips. A slight blush was always spread across her cheeks, with a faint smile playing about her dimples and pearly whites.

But even inside, she had a heart of gold. She would let birds and butterflies into her kitchen (yes, a real life Cinderella), and she cooked the yummiest meals, and she would play the most beautiful music. And maybe she was mute in this life, but Kemp was sure - had she been able to, their mother would have sang.

Because she was always dancing, spinning around in some sort of one-person waltz, and Jack danced with her sometimes now, and Kemp did too, but mostly he and Alexandria sat next to each other and played with each other’s fingers. Or they watched.

But as much as Mom was happy dancing with Jack and him, Kemp knew she wanted something more. She wanted what Kemp felt for Alexandria, she wanted the stars in Harry’s eyes around Louis, and she wanted raspy lullabies sung to her.

Mom wanted love.

 

 

-

 

Maybe it’s how young Jack is, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s afraid to “speak”, or maybe it’s just that he’s so beautiful, but Kemp’s mom won’t talk to the street guitar man. Even though he always makes sure to smile at her specially, and he’ll give her five dollars instead of the other way around, and he sometimes seems to sing his love songs just to her.

_ He loves you, Mama, _ Kemp signs, and Mom shakes her head shyly. Her hands are quicker than his, more elegant and graceful in their movements, but not so in words.

_ No,  _ she says.  _ He’s just being him. _

And Kemp shakes his head, disagreeing of course, because when he meets Alexandria’s parents, Zayn and Liam Malik, they look at each other the way Mom looks at the street guitar man. And so Kemp links his fingers with Alexandria’s and she ducks her head and blushes, and then they walk down the street to see him, the red-haired one.

He smiles when he sees them. “Give this to your mother, will you?” He asks, fishing a five dollar bill from his guitar case and handing it to Kemp, and Kemp smiles. “And tell her she looked pretty today.”

“I will,” Kemp says, and Alexandria leans her head on his shoulder. “If you teach me to play.”

The man laughs, a husky, joyful sound. Kemp cocks his head and smiles, and the man nods, his curls flopping down over his scruffy face.

“Gladly,” he says. “I’d be honored. I’m Ed.”

And he holds out a hand and Kemp shakes it; “I’m Kemp. This is Alexandria.”

Alexandria waves and Ed sends her a warm grin, and then Kemp waves and they continue down the street. “Bye.”

_ His name is Ed,  _ Kemp tells his mother later that night.  _ He thinks you’re pretty. _

Mom blushes and looks to her bare feet, and so Kemp makes it his mission to give them each other.

 

 

-

 

Kemp met Alexandria when he was twelve. Amongst rainy days and teaching Jack to read, having silent conversations with Mom and running behind on homework and projects, he found her. A little ray of light in his rough-around-the-edges world.

She was this quiet kind of beautiful, that doodling student who always sat in the back of class. Long brown hair and sweet, deep chocolate eyes, with a faint blush and two freckles (one on her cheek and one just above her left eyebrow), and Kemp found he loved making her smile with those off-white crooked teeth between rosy pink lips.

When Kemp told his mother about her, she had smiled and asked if he enjoyed being around her. He just nodded, and on his thirteenth birthday, Alexandria kissed him at his locker, tripping over her own two feet and ending up in his arms, and her fingers tangled in his unbrushed dredlocks and he just pulled her closer. Granted, it was their first kiss - there’s only been five since then, but that’s good enough for him. She’s beautiful, and she’s halfway to his, so he’ll take it.

Because amongst rainy days and teaching Jack to write, Alexandria was the sun.

 

 

-

 

_ I think I love Lexi, Mama, _ Kemp says, looking down at the table and blushing. Mom smiles softly and places her hands over his, squeezing them. Then she moves and he grins.

_ Sometimes, _ she signs.  _ I think I love Ed. _

Kemp laughs and suddenly hugs his mother, tightly. Slender arms and a blue dress, and he kisses her shoulder. “I love you, Mama.”

Mom’s hold loosens, and then she grips him harder. He knows what she means -

_ Me too, my love. Me too. _

 

 

-

 

When Alexandria emerges from B12, Kemp’s waiting. He doesn’t say anything, just a soft, “Hey,” because he’s never needed words when it comes to her. His lips touch her cheek, lightly, and then her fingers curl around his, gently. 

“Are you practicing with Ed today?” She asks, in that soft, pretty voice of hers, and Kemp smiles slightly.

“Maybe,” he says, just as quietly. “Yes.”

Alexandria hums. “Hmm. Well, I think you’re doing splendidly.”

He chuckles. Leave it to her, the aspiring writer, to use a word like “splendidly”. “Thanks. You listen?”

She nods, blushing faintly and smiling softly at the ground. “Hmm-hm. I stay, and I sit on the crates in the next alley over.” She looks up and smiles at him, squeezing his hand, fingers tangled in hers.

“You’re amazing,” she whispers, and he just stops and cups her face in his hands and kisses her, long and soft and slow.

“You too,” he says. “I love you.”

She just smiles.

 

 

-

 

“I was thinking…” Kemp says, slowly and carefully, still partially thinking through this. Ed looks over at him, crooked smile on his face, as always. “Maybe you could come over for dinner.”

Kemp fiddles with the guitar strings, a new habit he’s picked up, being nervous, and the off-key sounds echo and ring off the alleyway’s brick walls. Ed smiles.

“I’d love to. If your beautiful mother would be alright with it, of course.”

Kemp laughs, softly. “Yeah. Well, she’s why I asked.”

Ed just nods thoughtfully. “I quite like her. Though I often wonder why she never says hi.”

Kemp shrugs and looks away. “She’s mute.”

He expects something like a shocked, “Oh,” or maybe a, “Then how are we supposed to speak?” but instead Ed just chuckles.

“As so. Well, I suppose I love her anyway.”

Kemp’s eyes snap up to Ed’s bluish-grey ones, “Really?”

Ed nods and grins. “I like her birds and butterflies. And her smile.”

Kemp shakes his head and laughs, strumming a few notes, and then they go back to playing love songs;  _ This feels like falling in love, falling in love, we’re falling in love. _

 

 

-

 

You see, Ed is the land. He’s the sand and vast expansions of wonderful beauty, and Mom is the masked ocean that shyly waves, rolling forward, until she decides that you’re okay.

She let Ed in carefully, quietly, subtly, but quicker than most. At first it was just dinner, a lunch here and there, a few flowers and post-it love letters. But then Ed kissed her at the bus stop, under the lamplight five stories down from their apartment, and Mom had kissed him back.

Kemp went to his lessons the next day, to find Ed strumming mindlessly - love songs and pretty tunes. Kemp smiled; Mom was at home, smiling up at the ceiling while her hot chocolate went cold.

“Hi,” he said, and Ed sighed dreamily.

“She’s so beautiful,” he whispered. “So wonderful.”

Kemp giggled. “Yeah.”

_ “I’m in love with you, and all your little things.” _

 

 

-

 

Mom invited Ed over for Christmas, and he brought gifts. Many gifts; Kemp held in his arms the most beautiful acoustic guitar he’d ever seen.

“Thank you,” he breathed, “Oh my god, Dad, _ thank you _ .”

There were so many ways Ed could have rebuffed him, rejected it, said no.

Instead, he smiled at Mom with twinkling eyes and then back at Kemp; he tangled in fingers loosely within Mom’s and murmured, “Course, son.”

 

 

-

 

It happened slowly. Time passed like the seasons, bit by bit the leaves changed colors and fell, and the blossoms bloomed and then sprinkled down a petal at a time.

And Kemp began to touch his lips to Alexandria’s skin softer, gentler, hesitantly; she giggled quietly and gasped whenever he whispered, “Alex,” into her skin. Ed’s lips never touched Mom’s, but his fingers were often tied together with hers. They wore strings on their left hands, a simple symbol of love; Mom couldn’t scream if someone grabbed her. Possessive.

He learned her language. Gradually, and in short quick bursts of inspiration, but Ed’s twinkling eyes observed their every conversation and Kemp found himself teaching Ed to speak. To sign. To be silent and yet say every word.

They spent too many hours crowded in the living room; Mom tentatively lay her head on Ed’s chest, running her fingers through Jack’s hair as he leaned against her, and Ed wrapped his arm around her, and his other around Kemp. And Kemp played sad songs, singing of far-off lands; somewhere and elsewhere and anywhere.

And slowly, blue eyes were bright.

 

 

-

 

Kemp tucked Jack in, kissing his brother’s blushing pink cheeks and then pulling the blankets up and placing them down ever so gently over him. Too many nights he’d done this, because Mom was asleep of her sickliness, but now she was sitting down by the TV, and Ed had her wrapped his arms, as safe as she’d always deserved to be.

Kemp snuck down the stairs; he sat down at the very top and laid his head on the wall. Quiet voices carried up the passageway, and he could hear Ed’s every word. He peeked around the corner, and saw a kiss of sweetness, just like a Disney princess’ fairytale ending.

“Taylor,” Kemp heard; Ed’s voice had a crack in it, something to the scent of raw love spilling out, “You have bewitched me, mind, body and soul. And I love, I love, I love you.”

Mom blushed, and kissed him slowly,  softly.  _ I love you too, _ she signed,  _ my lovely robin. _

And then he stood; Ed offered her his hand and she took it. They waltzed around the living room until Mom spotted Kemp at the top of the stairs.

Back before, Kemp would’ve been given the look and sent up, but instead he waved. “Hi, Mom,” he said timidly. “Hi, Dad.”

And Mom smiled, resting her head on Ed’s chest.  _ Hi, baby. _

 

 

-

 

Alexandria’s hands were gently wrapped around Kemp’s when the boys came to visit. “My baby,” Harry said when he arrived, kissing Mom’s forehead and brushing his fingers through her hair. “Hi, sweets.”

Ed sat at the table, and Mom kissed him quickly before settling down next to him. Louis, Harry’s husband, and Mary and John, the twins, all sat down by them, shaking hands and trading crinkling eyes and smiles. Zayn and Liam, Alexandria’s parents, sat with their four daughters, Alexandria included, and Niall and Esme and their children, Brian and Chry.

It’d been awhile since they’d had a holiday. Which was funny, because they all lived in New York City, in Manhattan. Hence Alexandria and Kemp’s meeting, in primary school with gap-toothed smiles and messy coloring.

_ “Color inside the lines!” “Make me, Lexi!” _

Too many days locked up when the rain fell, until Alexandria had brought over her sisters and thrown pebbles at the window, until finally Kemp took Jack’s hand and ran down into the wet mouth of the storm. And Alexandria had kissed him, thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him with parted lips and squeezed-shut eyes and something along the lines of evening-but-not-quite breathy passion, and Kemp loved her.

He pressed his ear against the door of the guest bedroom later on, and he heard his uncle’s deep voice and Ed’s wonderous one; “I’m in love with your sister. And she’s in love with the world. So I wanna give her the world.”

And maybe, Kemp reasoned, the butterflies in his stomach were meant to mean hope.

 

 

-

 

It’s funny, how many relationships Kemp had watched wither away. In the span of his fifteen years… 

There’s been Grandma and Papa leaving, and then Harry had disappeared for years before resurfacing to tell Mom he loved her and that he was sorry. And something had always kept Kemp from trusting completely, if he was honest; Mom was everything and Jack was everything else but now Ed was everything, too, and sometimes Kemp feared that he’d let someone break down his walls for a majority of nothing.

When Ed took him home from school, Alexandria kissing him goodbye at the door, Kemp would mumble while Ed talked and they would both shove their hands deep down in their pockets; Ed stretched his fingers, Kemp’s curled into fists. Maybe he was just silent because of Mom, and Jacky, because their worlds were so much quieter than his and he just subconsciously felt like he fit in better there if he was silenter, like them.

But still, it was nice to have someone to talk to. To hear a voice that wasn’t asking for help or guided by crooked flailing fingers. It was nice.

 

 

-

 

And there’s something to be said for all the times Alexandria’s found him up in the risers in the auditorium, the ones the curtains hang from. Usually she says something, but today she just sits down next to him and reaches over to his hands, resting on his lap, and she tangles his fingers with hers.

“Sometimes I just imagine the world, you know,” he rasps, and she rests her head on his shoulder and he rests his head on her own. “And it’s so lively, and bright, and my Mama’s just struggling in the silence. I can’t imagine Manhattan without the racket. The noise. The buses and cars and singing and ads and  _ Broadway _ , and I just wish that my Mom could’ve heard it all.”

Alexandria sits up, purses her lips and nods, “But your Mama’s not deaf, sweetie, she’s mute.”

Kemp shakes his head. “It may as well be so. What’s the point of city beats if you can’t sing along?”

It’s quiet now, and even inside the empty auditorium they can hear vehicles honking as it echoes off the ceiling, and then Alexandria kisses his face.

“There’s something we all need to learn,” and he looks at her and she presses her lips to his, gently, “to say, and do, and have nothing, and be content.”

 

 

-

 

The world goes on like nothing’s changed. But they have. A lot, in perspective… Mom wears a red string along with the original Ed gave her - they’re engaged, Kemp knows it.

“Mama,” he whispers, and she looks up from fingering the pages of her book. Ed is wrapped around her, snoring softly, and her fingertips brush his hair as well as the page. Kemp tightens his arms around a sleeping Jack. He knows she’s listening.

“When you and Dad get married,” he continues, and she smiles, “will there be a wedding?”

Mom nods. Kemp can see it, and he says, “With you in a simple white dress, and he’ll wear a red string like yours, and Jacky will be the flower boy while I’m the ring boy, and Dad’ll just wear a suit cause he doesn’t own a tux, and Harry’ll be your Maid Of Honor and Esme’ll be Dad’s best man, and -”

Mom shakes her head, and if she could, she’d be laughing. Kemp grins and breathily chuckles; “What?” He says. “What?”

Mom looks up and drops her book, beginning to sign.

_ You make me happy. Completely and perfectly and incandescently happy. _

And in the end, Kemp takes out his headphones. Because for once, the silence is loud enough.


End file.
